


The Big Boss

by Ooze



Category: Assassin's Creed, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Mild Language, Pokéssassins, a few sporadic curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ooze/pseuds/Ooze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham meets an interesting character who takes an interest in him as well. However, such an encounter brings with it misadventures. Charles can only stand by and observe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curious Welcome

When the _Providence_ docked, all eyes turned on the ship to admire its grandeur. For Haytham, however, it had become nothing but another of the many ships that crossed the monotonous seas. That, and something of a nuisance, what with the crew and captain he had become involved with. He was grateful to have reached the port, and even more so when he stepped off that blasted vessel. He was met with an active environment—something he wasn't exactly delighted by.

The New World was definitely a chaotic place.

He'd noticed flocks of black birds riddled among the port, perched upon the masts of the ships and on rooftops. Some of them cawed loudly, annoyingly, but he was able to put their voices out of his head. His attention was given mainly to an eager Charles Lee, who struck hands with him and made his cooperation clear. They began to walk together, away from the docks and further into the city, but Haytham was unaware that a set of eyes were trained on him ever since he arrived.

A pair of eyes from directly above.

Curious, conniving, red eyes.

The eyes of a Murkrow—one of the black birds Haytham had dismissed earlier.

There were many of them, scattered all around not only the port, but the rest of the city. They cawed at each other, at people, at other Pokémon. Sometimes for a reason, sometimes for nothing. But their presence was ignored by the residents who had lived in Boston long enough. Newcomers often grew weary of the Murkrow, making fools of themselves by shouting back at the birds, even tossing things at them to make them leave. Not a single thing worked, though, and it was through trial and error that people gradually accepted the flying nuisances as their neighbors.

Haytham was not about to make any of these mistakes. Thankfully, he tolerated the noise and the black figures that darted from here to there. Charles had engaged him in conversation, though it was light and hardly demanded serious thought.

The Murkrow that saw Haytham—that watched him the entire time—grew interested enough to follow. There was something about him; his gait, his appearance, and the fact that he was a fresh face. All of this made him an object of study, and gave him a certain... magnetism; that which pulled the Murkrow toward him. Indeed, it trailed him from the docks, but did so with a careful amount of stealth. Charles was accompanied by a Houndoom, a creature that kept itself on high alert. Its eyes and ears were finely tuned to detect the slightest disturbance. Murkrow had encountered the likes of those Pokémon before, and knew their aggression could surge forth from one second to the next.

Murkrow hopped from rooftop to rooftop, from tree to tree. Its eyes remained perfectly glued to the adornment on Haytham's head. It was curiously reminiscent of something it had seen before. Something that gave it bad vibes. It even reeled at the feeling, confused as to why it should follow a human whose appearance made its stomach turn. But the temptation remained, the curiosity burned brighter, and Murkrow would not relent. It was on its own, and what would be the harm?

Besides, this would be _fun_.

* * *

When Haytham approached a man seemingly in distress, he immediately regretted the decision as soon as the older fellow expressed his dilemma.

"Look, I'm not sure if I—"

And very promptly did the discussion end. Benjamin Franklin retreated into the building he motioned at, and Haytham was inclined to enter, though not for a continuation of the subject. He felt eyes upon him again, but not from Charles, or from the canine that walked with them.

In his peripheral vision, he swore he saw one of those same birds actually _watching_ him. When he turned to look, however, nothing was there.

"Something the matter, sir?" wondered Charles as he followed Haytham's gaze.

"No," Haytham answered quickly and comfortably, which was enough to put Charles' worries to rest. He made his way into the store after all, leaving his escort to wait outside.

But something was definitely the matter. Haytham had seen it with his own eyes. He knew it—and Murkrow knew it, too. They hadn't made eye contact, but they saw enough of each other to cement the fact. It wasn't a problem for Haytham, but for Murkrow it was a disaster. It had been seen because it fumbled, peeking out at them longer than it should have, and now the element of surprise was eliminated. A mere second made all the difference.

But not all was lost. It was in a Murkrow's nature to make mischief, and this opportunity was too promising to pass up. To test this man's patience while indulging its own curiosity? Oh, yes. The time was now.

Murkrow had ducked behind a cart, propping itself on a wheel; but as far as it knew, hiding was pointless now. The bird flew away to the nearest roof, which was occupied by some of its own kind. They ignored it only after leering at the outcast, but they were ignored in turn. Murkrow wanted to have fun, and it assured itself that it would. Haytham would guarantee that.

Its whimsical eyes caught sight of his friend, though, interacting with another person. They talked, in close proximity, and Houndoom kept with it an air of suspicion as it guarded against danger.

This Charles Lee... What was he up to? He seemed to marvel at something in his hand which the other person had given to him. They fled, and Charles tucked away the object before Murkrow could get a clear look at it. The prospect of it being a wonderful thing filled Murkrow's mind, exciting its passions and sparking its curiosity. Now it seemed that Charles was a thing of interest as well.

And just like that, Haytham returned. "Now, where were we?" it heard him ask, and watched the pair move on.

They made use of two horses—well, horses with flaming manes and tails, but not at all harmful to the touch. Charles' canine followed close behind, and Murkrow even further behind the party. It overheard them speaking, but it could not gather anything of importance. It followed them right up to where they dismounted, and watched them enter from the safety of a rooftop nearby. It was displeased to know that Houndoom had waited outside. All Murkrow could do was watch and wait. But apparently this Green Dragon Tavern was a place they'd be frequenting, as Charles had mentioned something about an inn earlier, and Murkrow had once tormented people who stayed there for a time.

Not more than minutes passed before the two same men exited the building. Having chosen a perch in front of them, and being the only bird on it, Haytham noticed the Pokémon once again, giving it a cold shoulder for the second time that day. He couldn't be certain if it was the same as before, but he had a fairly educated guess. Murkrow didn't care about being seen this time. Having locked eyes with the man for a moment, it cawed in his direction, catching the attention of Charles Lee and the dog. Haytham was not in the mood for a distraction like this, but he admitted that there was something curious about his two chance sightings of a similar bird in one day, and the very one that watched him from above tickled his interest, if only for a fleeting moment.

Its caw was almost like a greeting to him; a "welcome to Boston" that held a mild level of intrigue.


	2. Collision

Haytham and Charles had spent much of the day going here and there, and when they returned to the Tavern, another man was among them. Thomas Hickey, it was later learned—the next day, in fact, when all seemed idle and Murkrow overheard Charles and Haytham conversing. The Flying-type had actually stayed in the area, and on the next day moved to another rooftop to watch them from a different angle. No one saw it; or no one cared that it was there. Still, it stuck close, and on that gratuitous day it gained exciting new information that only ensured reward.

"I hadn't had the chance to tell you, sir," Charles said as their initial subject veered off into a pause, "of something I came into possession of."

"Oh?" Haytham wondered simply. "And what have we been keeping to ourselves?"

"I'd forgotten about it, in fact," Charles quickly added to make up for any misunderstanding between the two. "A man gave it to me only yesterday. A rock of some kind."

"This interests me how?"

Charles reached into a pocket and pulled out a dark, purple stone. There was a murky shine about it, and it seemed clouded with darkness beyond the surface. He had no explanation for it, and held it up in front of the Grand Master so that he too could examine it. There was certainly something alluring about it, especially when it caught the sunlight. This was something Murkrow had seen as well, and its eyes widened in surprise and desire.

Murkrow were known for admiring and even collecting shiny objects, but this one was so much _more_ than a polished rock.

"The gentleman didn't elaborate upon it, but it might be of value." 

Haytham looked at his accomplice, but his face showed how little he was impressed. "I'm not interested in money, Charles."

"I mean _significance_ , sir—for us."

"Oh, then do tell me what you have in mind."

Charles' expression turned to one of gravity, and in a quieter voice he continued: "Have you not taken into account the very presence of this rock? Its appearance alone begs a pause. The original owner might not have had an inkling as to what this fragment holds, but in _our_ hands we can discover its purpose."

Kenway was still not sold. His head swayed in skepticism. "And if it is no more than a rock? An oddity of nature, yes, but nothing more beyond that? Charles, I—"

"I understand your doubts, sir," Charles interrupted gently, his voice rising to its usual timbre. "But I should still like to hold on to it. It can't be said what we might learn of this in time." Something about Charles' face gave the impression that he was a child trying to persuade a parent, and the Grand Master evidently picked up the hint.

"You need not my permission. Do with it what you will," he said flatly. "Keep it, toss it, even sell it—so long as it does not control your main focus. Am I understood?"

In a burst of childlike excitement, Charles replied, "Perfectly, sir! I would never let a trifling thing bind me. You have my word."

Haytham said nothing as the conversation drew to a close, but only observed the stone once more as Charles withdrew it.

An alluring little thing, indeed.

Murkrow was more determined than ever, now with a definite goal in mind. It would steal the rock, plain and simple. These humans had no need for it, whereas Murkrow could do _everything_ and more with it. It glided over to a rooftop adjacent to the Templars' position, right in Houndoom's line of sight, and induced from it a series of barks and snarls.

Charles was not amused by the racket and made a point to correct the canine with a swift, strict tongue; but Haytham was more forgiving, and encouraged Lee to let the poor thing alone.

"Now, Charles, there's no need for hostility. It's only speaking to that Murkrow over there."

"Quibbling, I think you mean, sir. Quibbling."

"And I don't blame it," Haytham sighed. "That bird has been following us for some time. Since yesterday, as a matter of fact."

Charles bothered long enough to study the Flying-type that stood neatly atop the roof. He was perplexed, and turned to Haytham to ask, "Are you sure, sir? That very one?"

"I am confident, Charles. I think it's taken an interest in us. Perhaps it wants something."

At this, Murkrow yelled.

Haytham stepped forward, locking eyes with the Pokémon, and rose his voice slightly when he decided to speak directly to it. "I don't know what you want, but your persistence is tiring. Either leave us in peace, or make your intentions clear."

Charles offered a hint of rationale, but Haytham too was persistent. Murkrow's eyes glinted, ignoring Haytham for the moment as it observed Charles' closed hand, where it knew he held the stone. But it would not reveal what it wanted so easily.

"Is it food?" Haytham asked it. "We would be _more_ than happy to accommodate you."

Some sarcasm was detectable.

This, however, provided no satisfaction for the Murkrow. It could pilfer food from anybody, anywhere. It cawed again, this time leaning forward with heightened exuberance. All Haytham needed was a little more time before he realized—or, made another educated guess, rather.

He turned to Charles, held out his hand, and presently gained possession of the purple artifact. He showed it to the bird, who could not resist gaping at the sheer brilliance of the thing.

"It's a fact that birds are attracted to luminous objects," Haytham stated matter-of-factly. "Would this satisfy you?"

"Sir!" Charles interjected in protest, suddenly wide-eyed. He had intended to keep the thing, after all.

But Murkrow would not be placated without earning its pleasure first. Some mischief was still in order, and it was resolved to have some fun with Haytham before the day was done. It spread its wings, expressing anger as if it had been insulted by his offering. "Murkrow!" it called repeatedly.

"This is such nonsense," Lee declared. "Better to scare it off than appease it. Houndoom, take care of this."

"No!" Haytham cautioned adamantly, yet Houndoom was not bound by the Grand Master, and unleashed a stream of fire directly at the Murkrow.

The playful creature avoided the flames, swooping down at a steep angle and removing the fabric topper that Haytham habitually wore. In the confusion, it made off with his garment, and Haytham would not leave well enough alone. He was not a man to be taken advantage of, and this was more or less caused by Charles and his haste.

"Damn!" Haytham cursed as he felt his hair. " _Charles!_ "

"Master Kenway, I had no—"

"Stay here. _Don't_ come after me."

With that, he darted off hot on the Murkrow's trail. He scaled over a building, and disappeared as he leapt across the rooftops. Charles Lee could no nothing, even if he wanted to. Houndoom, too, was left clueless, but not with as much guilt as its human. It sat beside him while he merely stood in place. He would be sure to wait for Haytham right where he was left.

How was he to know that it was wrong to attempt to send the Flying-type away?

And would Haytham even return with the stone he borrowed from Charles, or would he use it to barter with the bird? That is, if he were to catch up with the damned thing.

* * *

"Bloody Charles," Haytham had gasped between breaths.

He was, surprisingly, able to keep Murkrow in his line of sight. Perhaps his heightened senses had something to do with that. Nevertheless, he bounded after his target all across the city, sometimes calling out for it to stop whenever he could catch his breath for long enough.

But he never faltered, never considered the possibility of _giving up_. He kept the momentum going, sticking above ground as he fluidly moved over roofs. Besides, a Flying-type Pokémon would do the same.

And if it stopped, it certainly wouldn't in the streets.

Ah, but the situation began to look promising not long after the start of the chase. The Murkrow was tiring, allowing the gap between it and its pursuer to shorten. The weight of its burden was only then becoming a realization. The Pokémon had made a grand mistake by not taking this into account. Thus, it found itself inevitably defeated.

With energy draining, the Murkrow could not expend itself any further **—** but Haytham was fitting perfectly into its plot so far. It made a descent for a two-story building, one wide enough to accommodate itself and the human; and so it landed, turning to face the Templar who'd impressively caught up with it. He was out of breath, but as his chest heaved he did not show any outward fatigue.

They shared a moment studying one another: Murkrow with the hat in its mouth, and Haytham with very little dignity left after having chased a bird so far.

"What you have is mine," the human spoke with steady authority. "I demand you return it."

Murkrow only tilted its feathered head. He would have to try harder.

Haytham sighed, glancing at his sides as he thought. He was more than irritated then, but knew tolerance was vital to success. He turned his gaze back on the Murkrow, and offered something of a smile as a show of good faith.

"You have no need for that," he persuaded. "You can't even carry it far enough without exhausting yourself."

Murkrow knew that already. It didn't want the ugly thing to begin with. It watched him, scanned his clothing, until it spotted the stone nestled beneath the lapel roll of his outermost garment. The wind blew his frilled cravat enough out of the way for the treasure to be seen. A lucky break. He took care not to drop it, it seemed, and Murkrow had him _and_ its prize in the best possible position. It had to take care in not making a mistake this time.

For Haytham, it wasn't losing the tricorne that upset him, but the principle; the _fact_ that he had something taken from him. He was not about to let the matter settle without getting back what was his. And for that reason alone, he stood in defiance.

With neither of the two giving an inch, Murkrow initiated the next step of its freshly formulated plan. It set down the garment right in front of it, and with a soft touch, no less. To add emphasis to its surrender, it hopped away from the hat. As expected, Haytham took the bait. Humans could be so gullible.

"I see you've come to your senses," the Templar observed cautiously. He slowly stepped forward, both to maintain his balance on the roof and to show the Pokémon he meant no ill-will. As he found himself a mere foot or so away from his precious accessory, he gave one final long look at the bird. "You're rather intelligent, aren't you?"

He extended an arm.

He reached down.

His knees bent.

Murkrow's opportunity was at hand!

It jumped swiftly, unleashing a cloud of black haze from its beak directly upon Haytham just as his fingers grazed the fabric. He was blinded in an instant, hacking as he choked on the thick billows. It was then that he felt a sharp jab in his chest, and pointed talons scratching at his clothes. He swung his arm to brush the pest away, successful on his first attempt.

However, he was robbed yet again, having not realized it until the smoke only began to clear **—** and saw, in front of him, a light that was not there previously.

With his real possession in hand, he fanned the haze away, stepping backward with a hoarse cough and teary eyes. But he failed to register the end of the roof, and the glow in front of his eyes sped at him with every intention of knocking him down. That he did, too, and fell on his back much to his great pain. Falling was never easy, no matter how often he'd done it. The back of his head made contact with the ground below, and his vision became blurred in addition to the haze that still lingered before his eyes.

He groaned as he struggled to look up, seeing a black figure hovering above him through the thinning cloud. He could distinctly hear its laughter, and he snarled as he was made light of. He managed to spit out a "Damn!" but all for naught.

The Murkrow had undergone a rapid metamorphosis, and thus became the bigger, badder version of its previous form: _Honchkrow_.

Finally achieving its goal, the newly evolved Pokémon sat atop the roof to peer down at the outsmarted Templar Grand Master. It could not help itself as it cawed in laughter, with a timbre much deeper than it had only a few moments before. It watched as nearby denizens rushed to him, one offering aid and no sooner helping him back up to his feet. He staggered, coughing out the haze that remained in his throat and lungs. Honchkrow stretched out its wings when he looked up with clearer vision, and as he cursed something at it, the bird cried in reply. In a flash of newly acquired pride, the Flying-type bade him farewell and took off **—** who knows where?

Haytham knew it useless to give chase again. What was the purpose? He got what he wanted, and lost nothing of value. But his ego took a blow of some sort. To be bested, in front of others, by a bird that played pranks was a hard truth to swallow, and yet he swallowed it along with the haze he'd inhaled. But he was covered in a black residue **—** almost like soot **—** now, and his dressings were ripped. The whole of him was a mess, frankly, but at least he was no worse than when he'd engaged the Pokémon.

And as far as he knew, that was the last he'd see of it.

Charles would have to live with the fact that his precious rock was stolen.


	3. Friends With Benefits

Honchkrow was a proud thing to behold: glossy dark blue feathers with white and red—not to mention a topper on its head which could easily rival the Grand Master's. Now it would be treated with the respect it deserved. An outcast no more; it would be feared by all Murkrow, and challenge the other Honchkrow that dared to defy it. With a new candor that reflected terror, this Honchkrow would _own_ Boston and wilds around it.

Or that was once the hope.

Ever since it was ousted by the leader of its former flock, the Murkrow was isolated and undesirable to others. Aimless and without the protection of a group, it found itself in a tough spot. But no more. The arrival of the _Providence_ was all it needed in order for its luck to return.

Now a Honchkrow, a Pokémon symbolic of authority, it felt its purpose renewed. Yet, something was hollow. Something was lacking.

And Honchkrow knew perfectly what that was.

* * *

Haytham's mood had soured when he returned to the Tavern. He was actually surprised to see Charles Lee still there, right where he'd been left. Upon his return, Lee had poured over the Grand Master and his frightening change in condition. Asking him every manner of question, and begging a thousand pardons, Lee tailed Kenway as the pair stepped inside the establishment.

"Charles, I'm afraid your stone is now in someone else's hands."

His delivery of the news was so cold, so collected, that Charles could only acknowledge with a hesitant "Oh."

And when he explained how he came to be covered in something very similar to soot, Charles could only apologize.

But Haytham did remember to leave out a few important details. The conversation never made headway as he busied himself dusting the mess off his clothes. The task was more difficult than it should have been, and when he expressed annoyance, Charles took it upon himself to continue for him—but Haytham was adamant that it should just be left alone, reinforced by Hickey's chortling. At least Haytham managed to clean his skin, though his hair could have used... more.

The day drew on, passing into evening, with the Templars discussing their next move all the while. Haytham was not totally into the subject at hand, however; and considering he had a headache, he could care less about their united motives. He merely sat at the table with the others, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to block out the noise of the inn—associates included.

But with the arrival of night came the chirping of crickets, as if to add insult to injury. Haytham was just tired now. All he wanted was to retire for the night.

However, another sound was mixed in.

Haytham glanced over at Charles, then making his voice heard for the first time in about an hour. "Charles?"

"Sir?" the other answered curiously, not quite turning to face him. The others suddenly quieted down.

"What is that sound?"

Charles listened carefully, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. He couldn't place it at first, but he too heard something. Some kind of yelling. But it hardly sounded human.

Haytham stood, quitting the room and marching directly outdoors. His associates followed. His headache and blackened clothes told him what he should have expected to see upon making it past the threshold. He was not surprised, but definitely curious. He let out a sigh as he beheld the large, plump Honchkrow cawing its heart out atop the same building as earlier in the day.

It noticed him and cawed at his presence. It was definitely the same bird that took advantage of him. There was a glint in its eye that told Haytham it was pleased to see him. How he felt about it, though, could not be compared.

Charles leaned over to the Grand Master and wondered, "Is that what I think it is?"

"I believe so—and the thief who took your stone."

Honchkrow flew down, approaching the group but stopping a good distance away from the Grand Master. It looked up at him, admiring how the remains of its Haze attack stuck to him.

"Y'know tha' thing?" Hickey asked disparagingly as he shoved past Johnson. He took a good look at the Pokémon but wasn't impressed.

"Unfortunately," Haytham answered. He walked forward, narrowing his eyes at the creature that stood almost in defiance before him. "What is it you want now? You have what you sought. Are you still not satisfied?"

Honchkrow's approach wasn't hostile, but lenient. It looked only at Haytham, desiring only his attention. Honchkrow felt that it would not lead a fulfilling life if it only surrounded itself with Murkrow. That part of its life had passed ever since it was exiled. It no longer desired to head a flock, as its newly gained power could be used for something more. The Templars presented it with a new opportunity whether or not they knew it.

But Haytham also felt something; like this Pokémon was not like any other, and its fixation on him must have held a deeper meaning. The way it outsmarted him, used him for its personal gain, was telling of its ability and its heightened intelligence. It was obvious to him that Honchkrow displayed a controlled amount of wit out of discretion, and that surprises lurked beneath its plumage. What an asset it could prove to be.

Houndoom snarled at the infiltrator, just waiting for the command to be given—but this time Haytham would not allow another screw-up. He cautioned Charles to keep the dog under complete control as he worked out a strategy.

With an air of delicacy, Haytham took another step forward, clasping his hands behind his back, suggesting, "Now, let's sort this out— _without_ the need for tricks."

Honchkrow was silent and only observed him. It blinked, and allowed the Templar to say more.

"Why have you come back? I honestly thought you were done with us."

No response.

"In what way do we interest you?"

Nothing.

"...We could serve each other."

An attractive thought. Had Haytham gotten the same idea? The bird tilted its head as if to encourage him to go on.

"That smoke you used to incapacitate me _can_ be very useful." Haytham thought quickly, came up with a lie: "We could provide you with all manner of lustrous curiosities. Only offer us your... advanced services."

"Are you certain about this?" Charles whispered, full of doubts. He could not put his trust into a thieving wretch, and wondered why Haytham apparently felt differently.

"Its abilities will give us the edge," the Grand Master answered, exaggerating awe as he spoke aloud so that Honchkrow could hear. He gave it a charismatic smile, adding, "Ours would be a mutually beneficial relationship. What say you?"

The others remained silent as they watched, waiting with some level of confusion and apprehension. For Johnson and Hickey, this was all news to them. But if the Grand Master wanted a Pokémon, then why not? There seemed to be a handful of them already, what with Lee's Houndoom and a Scraggy that accompanied Hickey.

The proposal was enticing, to say the least. There was virtually nothing Honchkrow had to give aside from its cooperation. In fact, it had everything to gain. It knew that many humans were kind to Pokémon, treating them like equals, and it honestly had not seen any malice from Haytham. If anything, his reactions were due to provocation. Honchkrow had been terrible to him, in reality.

It thought deeply, quietly, stiff as a board.

Haytham knew that agreement was practically in the bag. He let the Pokémon muse a while longer as he turned to Hickey, asking him to fetch him something from the Tavern. A kind of an offering, as insurance. Food almost always sealed the deal for a Pokémon, especially one that struggled each day to keep itself from starving. Haytham would take it upon himself to keep the bird fed and thus satisfy it further with their arrangement—and he could always talk the others into helping.

When Hickey returned, Haytham blindly opened up his hand to receive the food.

"You 'adn't specified," the youngest of the men explained with something of a careless smirk.

The Grand Master had to do a double take as he nearly presented the offering. He set eyes on what exactly he'd been given, and turned sharply to Hickey and hissed, " _Cheese_?! Thomas, birds— forget it." He changed his mind about giving a lecture. It would have to do.

He proceeded with his plan, and walked toward Honchkrow who had perked up in curiosity as it watched him after it heard his voice rise. He revealed the contents of his hand, bending over some to get as level with the Pokémon as he could without stooping unnecessarily. "Here: if you take this, you accept partnership. Otherwise, you're free to go off into the woods, or wherever it is you come from, to try your luck, same as always."

Honchkrow stared at the gift that seemed to stare right back, almost beckoning. But whether food was involved or not, Honchkrow had made its choice. Wings outstretched, it raced forward and snatched the piece of cheese right from the hand that fed it. Haytham ducked instinctively as the Flying-type nearly crashed into him, but it swerved upward and safely placed itself upon the Green Dragon Tavern's roof. It turned around, looked him in the eye, and began to pick away at the food. Its fate was sealed, and it had no second thoughts.

"Well," Haytham observed, pleased, "that was fairly simple." He watched his new partner as it all but choked down the cheese, and it cawed at him when it finished. Perhaps saying "thank you"? He could only guess, but doubted, too, that what it said was anything like an expression of gratitude. Still, the development was satisfactory for both ends, and he smiled lightly in accomplishment.

What started as a confrontation ended on surprisingly amiable terms. Since the beginning, Honchkrow didn't understand why it had chosen to follow him. The purple rock was only a bonus reward; but even after evolving, it thought the same of him as it had when it first laid eyes on him. It liked to torment him; it liked seeing his tried expressions; it liked the authority he held, and the way he carried himself. He was something worth admiring, and Honchkrow could benefit from his presence.

"We've found ourselves a new Templar," Johnson remarked amusingly, but there was truth to his words.

"How long will that last, I wonder?" Charles mused aloud.

Haytham rested a hand on the man's shoulder, encouraging in behavior as the small group walked back to the Tavern. "Now, Charles, let's put some faith into this relationship. I trust we can depend upon Honchkrow."

"Since you believe so strongly in it, sir, I will try to do the same."

Without extended conversation, the men retreated back into their shelter, and the fuss was all over. Honchkrow would be spending more time with the Houndoom that disagreed with it, but that was no issue anymore. Honchkrow had a human now.

It _belonged_.


End file.
